


Maid of the Seas

by ellymango



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Bombing, Disasters, Gen, Memorials, No Dialogue, No offence intended, Terrorism, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellymango/pseuds/ellymango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst aviation accident to occur in the UK, the bombing of Pan Am flight 103 saw the loss of all 259 on board and 11 on the ground below. Years later, America revisits the town the disaster made notorious, to ensure he never forgets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maid of the Seas

Every December without fail, he came. To any outsider, he was just another slightly annoying tourist, seeking the memorial to the tragedy that gained the small village notoriety. To the local people, however, he was much more than that. He was the mysterious stranger, who appeared all those years ago within days of the event, the first one with an American accent. It wasn’t unusual; the jet was, after all, owned by an American company and carrying over one hundred American people.

They came each year, as well, trickling in slowly but surely, each one had a memorable face. The surly man with the thick eyebrows, the lady with the flowers in her hair, the strict soldier-type, the flamboyant romanticist… every year, the twenty-one tourists appeared. And with each passing year, not one of them appeared to age; each maintained the same youthful, vivacious face they had when they had first appeared in 1988. 

The weather was drizzly and decidedly miserable that evening as the American ambled into the churchyard. He always arrived first, going inside the church, and read the book of remembrance until the others arrived. 

The routine was the same every year. They would meet at the church, for prayers, and go into the churchyard outside to stand by the memorial for a while in complete silence before leaving tributes, and then leaving. What happened to his comrades after that was anyone’s guess. 

He for one always retired to his hotel room to ponder things. Usually he would work himself into a passionate rage over how people could be so cruel as to hide a bomb on an airplane full of innocent lives, and this would only end until the scar on his wrist throbbed in pain, or, on one occasion, he punched the wall with such a force that he left a large dent in the plaster. 

It wasn’t that he was an overly sensitive person; he just found it impossible to forget some things. Or rather, he found it immorally disrespectful. He had seen other nations simply stand up, dust themselves off and continue life as if nothing had happened. 

He wasn’t sure whether to find it cold or amiable. 

He entered the church, removing his glasses to wipe the moisture off them. The church was deserted, save for a few flickering candles. It was a calming atmosphere which he appreciated; the soothing presence helped him control his emotion easier. 

He strode through the building, footsteps echoing off the stone walls, until he reached the old book. Despite having memorised every name quite some time ago, he still read it every year. It had become a tradition. 

_He could still remember that December night all those years ago. Christmas was only four days away, and he was attending one of the many parties he had been invited to. The party had barely started when he had a strange hallucination of a jumbo jet majestically soaring into the sky at take-off. Putting it down to the jet-lag after his flight from the US, he shrugged it off._

_It wasn’t long later when he had another vision of the same white and blue aircraft roaring through the skies. He recognised it from the name proudly inscribed on the airplanes nose._

_Clipper Maid of the Seas…_

_By this point, he was feeling uneasy. Nations only had visions like this when something bad was going to happen. He remembered having similar visions eleven years earlier._

_He still wasn’t expecting what happened next. The way the skin puckered out, tearing itself into a massive starburst of brilliant flame. Watching hopelessly as the beautiful airplane tore itself apart, the cockpit torqueing backwards before tearing off completely, striking the inner right engine and tail as it careered into the night. What remained began to nose-dive, the wings tearing off, the rest disintegrated, raining debris and aviation fuel below._

That was when the vision ended, for him anyway. Having collapsed in a hysterical heap on the floor, he was unaware that simultaneously another nation had a vision, of burning objects raining down from the sky... 

He wiped a tear from his eye, sniffing deeply as he carefully turned each thick page, silently praying for each name, even those who weren’t his people. Two-hundred and seventy people he would never let himself forget. 

**Author's Note:**

> Goodness, I've just realised how inactive I've been! I'll make it up to you though.  
> Here's another flight-disaster story, and this time I opted for a much more well-known disaster; Pan American flight 103, otherwise known as the Lockerbie Bombing. I'm quite certain that most of you will probably already know what happened, but if you don't, here's the brief:  
> -On December 21st 1988, a terrorist bomb went off on a Pan Am jumbo jet (named "Clipper Maid of the Seas", hence the title) killing all on board and eleven residents of Lockerbie, a Scottish village near the English border.  
> -To date, it is the worse aviation accident in UK history, and the tenth worst in overall aviation history (excluding 9/11) claiming 270 lives in total.  
> -Most of the victims were American, with around 20 other nationalities. In Lockerbie town hall, there is a stained glass window decorated with the flags of countries who lost citizens, hence the mentions of other characters.  
> -Recently, the only person ever convicted of the bombing died of cancer, having been released from prison on compassionate grounds. If you all want to learn more, check YouTube out for documentaries. There are loads!  
> -Personal Hetalia headcannon: Prior to a disaster, a country will have strange hallucinations related to what's going to happen, hence America's visions of the plane taking off, flying and finally exploding. Afterwards, the hallucination of raining debris passes to Scotland.  
> -The "eleven years earlier" refers to the Los Rodeos runway collision in 1977, which is _the_ deadliest aviation accident ever, with a death toll of 583. Coincidentally, one of the two planes involved was owned by Pan Am (the other was a KLM). I may or may not write a fanfiction for that...
> 
> So there we have it. Please note that this hasn't been beta-d either, and I am still beta-less. If you want to be my beta, just ask!


End file.
